"Not sure," Raylan calls, before giving Lia a tired, impatient look. "No, it don't. And I'd feel better about trying to sort out if something's wrong if you weren't where you can get hurt easy. Stand back with Mr. Dresden."
He eases the door open, runs his hands under his chair and starts to check under the dash- and goes very still, like a raptor scenting prey. There's a wad of wires yanked loose and a little box he knows shouldn't be there, for all that he doesn't know a great deal about cars. "Lia, get back."
There's no room for argument in his tone. He slips his hand out from under the dash, stands up slowly, and turns to grab Lia's arm and get away from the car ASAP. Once they're back at the bar's entrance with the wizard, Raylan pulls out his phone and frowns at it. "Quick and dirty, not much of a hazard if you're expecting someone to try and blow you up."
Not that Raylan was, but. He glances at Harry before flipping his phone open. "Hardwired in, so presumably I'm not going to do any harm using this to call the bomb squad."
He dials nine-one-one, and the operator automatically responds Nine-one-one, what is your emergency? but Raylan frowns at Harry instead of answering. "Something ain't right about this."
Why set him on Dresden's trail if whoever-it-is just planned to kill Raylan himself once he was in Chicago? Why go through the trouble of breaking into the car without setting off any alarms to hardwire in an explosive that easy to find? He could have bumped it with his legs climbing in, even if he hadn't felt something off.
Hello? Nine-one-one, please state your location and the nature of your emergency.
He hangs up, strides back to the car, swings into the driver's seat and jams the key into the starter without closing the door. Deep breath. He twists the key and the car growls to life, and from under the dash there's a soft click and white fog hisses into the air from around his feet, pouring out the door into the street and flooding up and into the passenger and back seats.
Raylan climbs out again, his eyes watering, and slams the door. He waits to breathe again until he's a few feet from the car. He's feeling a bit light-headed just from the dose of whatever-it-was he just got hit with, but he's not on fire. That's a plus.
He braces himself against the next car over. "...I like it better when folks just want to kill me straight up. At least then their motivations are clear."
no subject
He eases the door open, runs his hands under his chair and starts to check under the dash- and goes very still, like a raptor scenting prey. There's a wad of wires yanked loose and a little box he knows shouldn't be there, for all that he doesn't know a great deal about cars. "Lia, get back."
There's no room for argument in his tone. He slips his hand out from under the dash, stands up slowly, and turns to grab Lia's arm and get away from the car ASAP. Once they're back at the bar's entrance with the wizard, Raylan pulls out his phone and frowns at it. "Quick and dirty, not much of a hazard if you're expecting someone to try and blow you up."
Not that Raylan was, but. He glances at Harry before flipping his phone open. "Hardwired in, so presumably I'm not going to do any harm using this to call the bomb squad."
He dials nine-one-one, and the operator automatically responds Nine-one-one, what is your emergency? but Raylan frowns at Harry instead of answering. "Something ain't right about this."
Why set him on Dresden's trail if whoever-it-is just planned to kill Raylan himself once he was in Chicago? Why go through the trouble of breaking into the car without setting off any alarms to hardwire in an explosive that easy to find? He could have bumped it with his legs climbing in, even if he hadn't felt something off.
Hello? Nine-one-one, please state your location and the nature of your emergency.
He hangs up, strides back to the car, swings into the driver's seat and jams the key into the starter without closing the door. Deep breath. He twists the key and the car growls to life, and from under the dash there's a soft click and white fog hisses into the air from around his feet, pouring out the door into the street and flooding up and into the passenger and back seats.
Raylan climbs out again, his eyes watering, and slams the door. He waits to breathe again until he's a few feet from the car. He's feeling a bit light-headed just from the dose of whatever-it-was he just got hit with, but he's not on fire. That's a plus.
He braces himself against the next car over. "...I like it better when folks just want to kill me straight up. At least then their motivations are clear."